


5 times Captain America took something from Brock and 1 time he gave something precious back

by araydre, Fancy_Dragonqueen, MassiveSpaceWren



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brock Rumlow Needs a Hug, Brock's father should have died sooner, Captain America - Freeform, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child!Brock Rumlow, Depression, Fanart, Hospitalization, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, araydre, born in Hydrafamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/pseuds/araydre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen/pseuds/Fancy_Dragonqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/pseuds/MassiveSpaceWren
Summary: Five times Captain America was responsible for something being taken from Brock and one time Steve Rogers gave something precious backHow good can you be when you're born into something everyone hates





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [araydre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/gifts), [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> I need to apologize.  
> It went a bit overboard and got a lot darker than I thought. Please read the tags carefully. This isn’t an easy story and a lot of things can be triggering. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS!  
> There WILL be fluff in the end. Then again this is a realistic fiction and after everything Brock went through we can’t believe everything will be happy and sappy in the end. 
> 
> Speaking of the end. You can find more notes there <3

Captain America was a hero.

It was one of the few times Brock was able to play outside, well not really play. It was more like his nanny went out with him to buy herself something and he wasn’t allowed to tell his father about it.  
He would learn about it, Brock was sure of it. His father knew everything.  
The nanny went away and left him in the toy department and there was this boy playing with a figurine of a man clad in red, white and blue. It looked ridiculous and the boy looked ridiculous too, because he was wearing a hat with something like feathers on the sides. On his face he wore a big, wide grin. He had lost two of his front teeth and it made Brock somehow proud that he had a matching gap. The boy looked up and he waved him over, causing Brock to look behind himself to see if there was someone behind him. But there wasn’t. He smiled a bit shyly at the boy, taking a step further.  
He wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers and nor was he allowed to play with other children. They would “poison his mind” his father told him. Therefore it was forbidden. The only people allowed to interact with him were his nanny and his teachers and whomever his father brought home.

The boy had such a nice smile though, and he waved at him with the ridiculous action figure. Brock couldn’t help but blurt out a question.

“What’s that?”

It was red and blue and somehow it seemed to be something important. There were a lot of those figures in the shelves.  
The kids face scrunched up in confusion, staring first at Brock, then the figure, then back at Brock.

“It’s who’s that. And it’s Captain America. He’s a hero! How can you not know Captain America?”

The boy seemed flustered as if Brock had cursed his mother. Which he would never do. He didn’t have a mother himself and he wouldn’t ever talk bad about any other person's parents. Promise.

“Is he special? I don’t… come out often.”

He felt ashamed, somehow. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV. He knew there was one in his father's office, but he wasn’t allowed to switch it on. Was this Captain someone he needed to know? Brock swayed on his feet. He hoped the boy wouldn’t say something bad, but then the boy’s face lit up and he nodded rapidly.

“I have a friend who can’t get outside! He isn’t allowed in the sun and is home schooled. He lives beside me. Come on.” The boy held the figurine out to him. “You need to know Captain America! He’s a hero and will rescue you from anyone and help with everything! He’s that powerful!”

Brock couldn’t help but smile and came closer to look at the figure, taking it slowly and careful in his hands and let his fingers dance over the shield.

“He doesn’t have weapons?”

Weapons were needed to protect and defend, he knew that for sure because his father had a lot of them and he himself was learning to shoot. Not that often, but he wasn’t that bad for his seven years, the teacher had told him.

“Captain America doesn’t need weapons, he has his shield!”

There was an unspoken “dummy” at the end of the sentence, but Brock couldn’t care less. He wasn’t allowed to have toys like this and he… wanted it. A hero that could help with everything? Perhaps he could help his father too! His father wasn’t that happy and he was working so hard as well and Brock bothered him to play with him sometimes. Brock knew his father was an important man, but he wanted so much to just spend some time with him, maybe even play together.  
He shouldn’t be selfish.  
He should get himself a Captain America figure that he could give to his dad, then his father would surely be proud and have more time for him. The thought brought a smile to Brock's face and his grin matched the boy’s.

“Tell me everything about him!”

His father wasn’t impressed by the Cpt. America figure, nor that Brock had convinced his nanny to lend him the last five dollars.  
His father wasn’t impressed by the gift at all.  
Brock had tried his best to wrap it up, but his father only wrinkled his nose and hadn’t wanted to take it into his hands. One of his visitors had poked his father in the side to get him to take the gift and unpack it, so he could send the proud child away.  
His father had rolled his eyes, but Brock was too proud, too eager to recognize the thin ice he was treading on. He also didn’t understand the cold look he got after the gift was unpacked .  
Nor why his father’s friends were laughing and clapping him on the shoulders.

“He will protect you, so that you get home safe!” Brock explained with joy and a childlike finality only the young and innocent had.

“Yeah. He will keep you safe.” One of the men answered him mockingly and Brock couldn’t help but scowl. The Captain WOULD keep his father safe.

“Captain America is a hero. He will keep him safe!”

Brock didn’t know why he said that, but he really believed it. His eyes were fixed on the smirking man and he didn’t see the fist coming that connected with his face. He felt a sudden pain in his cheek, was thrown to the ground from the impact. He didn’t even have time to cry out as he felt a shoe colliding with his ribs, robbing him off all air.

“You pathetic worm. I don’t know how I could have such a failure as a son.”

His father’s voice was cold and Brock couldn’t help the tears to start as he stared up at his father who seemed so much bigger than usual. He felt a sudden pain deep in his chest, not related to the punch or the kick. He just couldn’t point it out.  
His father leaned down and Brock tried to curl in on himself, to make himself as small as he could, but it seemed as if his father's fists were everywhere and he just couldn’t escape. It felt like forever, his cries of pain and hurt, cries for help echoed uncared for in the room, while the other men were just looking and talking about how pathetic it was indeed. They cheered his father on and he only stopped as the first one who had spoken laid a hand on his arm and took him away.

“Don’t kill him off, John. We can still use him. I think he can be pretty smart without this nonsense in his head. I’m sure he learned his lesson.”

There was a short, heavy breathing and Brock tried not to whimper, tried not to make a sound. If he tried hard enough he would melt with the floor and nothing would happen.

“You’re right Alexander. But he needs to learn where he stands.” His father turned back to him. “Your ‘hero’ is dead Brock. He won’t help you with anything. Hydra. Hydra will make you great, will bring you order. There’s only order through pain. Don’t ever forget that.”

At that his father ripped the head off the figure and threw it next to Brock, before turning back to his friends to show them something in his office. They left Brock lying on the ground, staring at the broken doll and wishing he could just die. He hated Captain America for making his father do this. He knew he should hate his father too, but then again, Cpt America couldn’t hurt him. It was easier to hate that man, than the one person that could come back anytime to hurt him again. He had trusted the Captain to keep them safe.  
He wouldn’t make this mistake again.


	2. Chapter 2

The years flew by and Hydra molded him into a better man. A better soldier. A better agent.

His father took to regularly beating him, order through pain after all. His nanny had gone missing soon after the ‘incident’, later he would know she hadn’t just vanished on vacation. Not that his father hadn’t told him the truth, it was just better to imagine than to know reality.

It didn’t take long for Alexander Pierce to take Brock under his wing, in more than one way, and Brock hated every second of it. Just the knowledge that one day he would be older, better and could fight back kept him going.

That and the broken Captain America figure he didn’t throw away. It was soothing to look at it in the night or after a hard session with Pierce. It was a risk, they would do things he couldn’t even imagine to him if they found out. If anyone from Hydra found out. But then again he had nothing to lose.

Becoming a SHIELD agent made everything different.  
He made friends. Met Rollins whom he later found out was a Hydra agent too. They founded a team, worked back to back and soon the STRIKE Team was formed. It made Brock proud, made him feel like he could be a better man. Like he could discard Hydra and everything they stand for and just be himself.  
Not the thing they wanted him to be.

Rollins and himself formed a strange bond, the man knew things Brock deemed as secret, but didn’t spill anything. It took a long time for him to trust the grumpy, scarred man. He took him in after Pierce “ordered” him, took care and managed to brighten each day a bit more. They didn’t form a relationship, not with Rollins being ace, not that that mattered, but they were more friends than anything.  
Rollins knew what it meant for Brock to become commander of the team, celebrated and cheered him on, causing Brock to laugh and brighten himself.

It seemed as if they had something new and precious. Brock not only got respect from his teammates, but from other Shield agents too. He even dared to grow a beard, get some tattoos. For a moment he feared Pierces wrath to lose his little cute plaything but the man only laughed and forced him on his knees to pay for his mistakes. And if the sessions were harder and more gruesome than before, because a man was more fun to break than a child, Brock couldn’t do anything other than stand taller. Dreaming of a better life and running with his STRIKE Team into the most dangerous missions. Proving to them and himself that he wasn’t weak, but could be a hero too.

Everything went up from there until Captain America was found.

Deep frozen in ice.

Brock couldn’t help but feel excited.

Hydra was furious. It caused a lot of trouble and Brock couldn’t help but grin inwardly, being proud and curious about the frozen man. He would get to know his hero. Rollins and him watched the battle of New York in Rollins’ apartment, admired the way the man moved, the way he fought. It was a fucking art. And if he blushed a bit harder after thinking how the Captain could handle him, well no one would be wiser. Except Rollins who snickered and elbowed him in the side with the snarky comment not to get a boner in the next Hydra meeting.

Meeting the man was intoxicating.  
He almost blurted out to help him take Hydra down, to make them all pay. To tell the Captain that he hadn’t succeeded, but that they could do it together. But then again Hydra wouldn’t stay down. There were always rats to survive and he wouldn’t want another one. Another child. To live through everything. They would need time. And he needed to gain his trust. To show Captain America what he was capable of. It shouldn’t be that difficult.

But it was.  
They worked together for the first time and Cap just… took command and Brock couldn’t help but let him lead. Who was he to tell the Captain what to do? There was a clap on his shoulder. A “good work” from the man and he felt his chest bloom with happiness. But he didn’t do anything. Just followed orders. Orders.  
The happiness vanished with a cold shudder.  
Perhaps it was just a one time thing and Brock shrugged it off, going back to work like nothing happened. But then it happened again and again and again.

“I want him off my team.”

It was the first time he stood up to Pierce. Head high and furious. It was his team. Not Captain America’s. He had built it. Made it the way it was. He had lead them into death and back. They had fought, bled and laughed together. It was his team.

“Stupid child. You won’t endanger the bigger picture for your little whims. You will please the Captain with leading the team as long as I want him to.”

Brock stared at him, his teeth clenched so hard that the muscle in his jaw throbbed. His fists were shaking next to his sides and he was about to scream at the man, but the sharp look was enough to make him stare at the floor.

“I think I was too nice to you. Too trusting. Feels like you should relearn your place. Strip. And kneel before my chair. You know what to do.”

His fingers felt cold as he started to unbutton his armour, took off the stripes and folded everything neatly. Order.  
One day he would fight back. But today wasn’t the day.  
He would follow the orders, felt himself retreating in his head as his knees hit the cold floor. He knew what to do, like he needed to do for a long time.  
The next time he met the Captain he smiled and let him lead. Ignored Rollins concerned looks and silent questions.  
One day everything would change. Today wasn’t the day. He wasn’t sure if he could hate the Captain for it. The man didn’t even know what he took from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Enjoy the angst <3 it's a short one this time, but the next one will follow soon!

Over the years he had met a lot of high operatives of Hydra.  
He didn’t like any of them. He tried to just focus on missions. Being a good soldier was easier than believing the whole Hydra bullshit everyone was preaching.  
There was a slight shift after Pierce jumped into the leadership, young and ambitious. He made Hydra into something dangerous, something Brock would describe as a fly trap. Listening to this new Hydra he sometimes caught himself believing the lies they spun, till he met Pierce’s cold eyes and his sly smile. He couldn’t help but shudder. He knew Hydra better than most of them here. He especially shouldn't be fooled by it.

He knew how it could poison your heart. Your body. Your soul.

There was no escape from Hydra. They were everywhere.

The nice helpful and sweetly smiling police officer?  
Brock had seen him wearing the same smile while torturing people to death just for the fun in an interrogation, even after knowing the man or woman didn’t know anything.

The little old lady making the best apple pie in the street?  
A former, now retired, Hydra chemist responsible for the most painful and slow poisoning gases they had. For the poisons and the drugs they were sharing.

The cashier around the corner?  
A spy gathering not only information, but also people who would be good in the ranks of Hydra, either as test subjects or real agents.

There was no escape. They really were everywhere.  
There were ways to hide, but it would be a life on the run. Hydra hated quitters and Pierce wouldn’t allow anyone to leave the organisation, especially not him. Pierce had this terrible and not really sane obsession with him. Besides, there was one important reason why he wasn’t able to quit. Why he didn’t want to quit.

Even after everything, he managed what he would have thought impossible, to find love within the cold ranks of Hydra. (copyright by [Shi-Toyu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu) ) Not from Pierce. God. No. The scum could rot in hell. No. It was a man abused and tortured and made into a puppet. As a child he had feared him. As a grown man he had started to adore and love him.

They were often teamed together, Pierce misinterpreting his stoney face as anger and fear of the Winter Soldier. How wrong he was. Brock loved Winter. Winter was everything Brock needed to survive, everything he needed to form a plan. To save enough money for the both of them. Whenever he was ordered to kneel in front of Pierce or when he was beaten by Pierce’s men he thought of Winter. The way he smiled this shy little smile, of his joy to eat pancakes. The way he growled Brock’s name while they loved each other. It was everything he needed to function. To survive everything.  
He just needed a little bit more time!

There was not enough time.

Everything rushed ahead and suddenly there was Winter, shaken and confused. Remembering not Brock but Captain America. Of course. Of fucking course. Even without knowing it, the Captain had taken so much from Brock, that he started to really hate the man.

Brock lied to Steve.

It was personal in the elevator.

Winter was everything he had and Brock would fight with teeth and claws to hold onto him, to take him to safety. He didn’t want to lose him, couldn’t lose him. But he did.

The building fell and he was crushed beneath it, it wasn’t a miracle that he survived he was just unlucky enough, hated by fate that he survived the encounter.  
Even Pierce's death wasn’t something that could make him smile when he woke up after weeks spent in a coma. Everything hurt. Starting with his body, his arms and face in so much pain he craved the next shot of morphine, tried to numb his body to not feel anything at all. He was lying awake with closed eyes, when two Hydra agents came in, looking him up and talking about him being useless for their cause now. They deemed him being broken and didn’t want to go through the trouble to help. The organisation in shambles and Winter was still on the run and near the Captain… that part hurt more than anything else. He didn’t open his eyes. Wanted to just forget everything. Perhaps it would all be a bad dream. He would prefer to go down on his knees and serve the man he hated rather than losing Winter.

The way to recovery was a long one.  
He somehow managed to not just put a gun in his mouth and end it altogether. There was always the hope he could find Winter and take him to a safe house. To live together and be finally happy.  
The saved money was used. Perhaps Winter had remembered and was on the run with it, making Brock smile a bit. He would manage without the money. At least Winter had something to keep him warm and fed. His own looks, the new gruff voice - his airways were damaged and he would speak like that for the rest of his hopefully short life- helped him to get a bit money on his own. Mostly through small robberies. He managed to survive somehow, managed to not starve himself to death, even if it was a close call sometimes. He wasn’t able to eat cooked meat anymore, had thrown up violently into the kitchen sink while the bacon sizzled cheerfully in the frying pan. He didn’t try it again. Staying on a diet full of fruit juices and alcohol, a cocktail of several painkillers and sleep pills. He knew it wasn’t the best solution. But then again who would care.

His nights were filled with nightmares. The burning fire on his flesh. The warmth of Winter cuddling and kissing him only to shy away from the disgusting sight of his body. Pierce being amused and telling him how much his body now resembled his rotten soul and still abusing him just for the fact he knew he could.

Everything got a bit better after finding Winter’s mask. It wasn’t much but he also managed to steal the aftershave he had put on Winter every time they prepared for another mission together. He sprayed it onto a pillow and clutched it hard in his sleep. It wasn’t much and it was indeed desperate and pitiful… he just couldn’t help himself and he slept better after it.

This wasn't the post Hydra life he had envisioned, but is was bearable, barely.. The Captain hunted his former friend down and brought him into Stark tower to finally get together with the love of his life. Brock knew they were together in the past. He hadn’t liked to steal Captain America’s boyfriend from him, but then again the Captain had been dead… And when the time came that he was defrozen, Brock hadn’t been able to give up Winter.

The knowledge that Captain America was united again with his “Bucky” broke Brock apart.

He had been wrong, the proud and happy face the Captain showed after revealing Bucky to the world, an arm around his waist and an also smiling Winter beside him _THAT_ was the moment he started to truly hate the Captain. Ugly and heated hate flowing through his veins.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Shi.  
> You wanted us to destroy Brock.  
> Here you go.
> 
> please note that the tags have changed! You can look at the end of the fic whom dies, then you can choose to read or ignore this chapter <3

The loss of Winter was hard.  
Gone were Brock’s hopes to get him back, to be happy again with him. To start a new life together. There was no way now for him to regain his beloved. All the memories Winter had would fade or be changed into hate. Brock was sure of it.  
How could someone like Winter love someone like him, when he could get the perfect soldier. Steve was perfect in every way. His hair, his laugh. There was no fault.  
Perhaps Steve's reckless behaviour without regard of himself and his own safety in order to rescue stupid people or animals could be a fault… but even that was something Brock admired in his deepest heart.

He knew why Bucky (Bucky. Not longer Winter. He had a better place now.) had fallen in love with this man.

Brock knew why Bucky could never love him.  
Not with his now ugly body. Not only his face covered in scars but also his arms and part of his legs and torso. He had been lucky. There had been enough of his armour to protect him from the worst. But then again he cursed the day he survived the encounter.

The dream Pierce was right.  
This look… it was like a mirror to his soul. Ugly and repulsive. Weak. Like the pathetic creature he was. 

He had killed and tortured so many, many people. There was nothing good left in him. Only blood on his hands, seeping from his fingertips. He didn’t know why he felt bad about it now. Some of them really deserved what they got. And how they deserved it.  
But then again, the first blood he had shed, the life he had taken, had been innocent.  


Not that it had been his own choice oh no.  
Brock couldn’t get the blood from his hands, the guilt out of his gut and the dry feeling out of his mouth.

It had been a friend, and Brock allowed himself a small smile while thinking about Marc. He had known Marc for half a year. His first friend. Marc didn’t live near them… He was a runaway. Almost thirteen. Something Brock was really proud of, that such an adult youngster wanted to play with him.  
In hindsight he just wanted to get food and something to drink. A warm shelter and someone to talk to. But he was Brock’s first friend. And the only one Brock allowed himself till he met Rollins.

_Marc had been blond haired and blue eyed. He had reminded Brock of Steve Rogers. Not only with his looks Brock,but with his behaviour and the way he was able to rescue Brock out of his father's claws._

_Marc was everything Brock ever wanted to be. He was free. Free of the things that were hidden behind the Rumlow castle’s closed doors. He didn’t need to fear his father beating him or this cold looking dark haired man breaking his arm at his father's order for laughing and trying to play instead of training. He didn’t need to fear the strange man his father loved so much and who would take care of him when he was a little older. No.  
Marc didn’t need to fear anyone. He could go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted and he had chosen to stay with Brock. Brock did everything to make him stay._

_Marc would ruffle his hair and laugh at Brock’s exclamation to run away with him and get married. Brock hadn’t known what it meant but it was something good, wasn’t it?_

_It was a great time. Marc stayed with him over the summer, until one cold day in autumn arrived and Brock was called to his father's office. He didn’t know why. There was the cold mute man standing in the shadows and Brock just knew he would be punished. He didn’t even think about Marc. Until he got grabbed by the arm and was dragged down into the basement. His father didn’t hit him and neither did the dark man. Brock was scared._

_He didn’t expected to be shoved into a room. The light was switched on and he stared into the fearful and big eyes of his friend. He wasn’t hurt and Brock couldn’t help himself but to sigh relieved._

_“So.”_

_His father's voice was nice, almost sweet.  
His father was never nice._

_“You both think you are friends? Well. Let’s see... “_

_He smiled and stood behind Marc, his fingers resting soft on Marc's shoulders._

_“Your name is Marc. Named after the god of war. That’s great. A good name. A strong name. I will let you both chose. I’ve watched you and I’m impressed by you. You will both get guns and whomever leaves this room alive will be my son. Food as much as you want. A warm bed. Everything you ever wanted. You can choose.”_

_He smiled again, his cold eyes connecting with Brock’s shocked brown ones and Brock felt a cold steel pressed into his hands. He hadn’t heard the mute man moving and his eyes didn’t leave Marc’s face._  
_Who looked at his father as if he was a saviour.  
As if he was good. Brock wanted to shout at him to not believe a thing. Not believe the lies. But his mouth was closed and his throat clenched._

_There was a smile on Marc’s face. Marc didn’t even try to tell Brock how sorry he was. He just lifted the gun and fired._

_There was no bullet connecting with his chest. Brock stared in disbelief at the kid he believed would rescue him, feeling his little bubble of dreams shatter. There was a cry. It wasn’t from him. He didn’t know what happened, was in a state where everything was kinda slow and his ears felt as if he was under water. Suddenly the gun was lifted and he held it in both of his hands, his eyes wide open while he pulled the trigger. One time. A second time. A third. He heard the gunshots loud and clear._

_Brock stared at Marc. His hand still steady around the gun. He didn’t know why he wasn’t shivering. He felt so cold.  
Marc gasped. Blood poured out of his mouth but he didn’t make much of a sound as he crumbled to the floor, still wriggling a bit, until he laid still._

_“I knew you had it in you. Took a bit. But good work, Soldier. That’s why you need order. You can’t trust anyone. Everyone will try to kill you for his own pleasure, his own gain. Never forget that.”_

__

_There was a big hand on his shoulder, clenching it. He didn’t respond, just stared at the wall where he could see faint droplets of blood. His father didn’t take the gun. Him and the silent man left Brock alone in the room. The light went out and he could hear the door clicking shut, a key being turned._

It was the moment his heart turned cold. The moment he pressed the gun into his mouth but didn’t shoot. The moment he stayed there in the cold room, promising himself to survive and kill off his father someday. To crush everyone working for Hydra. Anything was better than this. He would work to be the best. He would destroy them.

Oh what a fool he had been.  
Even after everything he had believed to be able to change the world. To be a better man. Now everything was in pieces.  
He was scum.  
Nothing.  
Like his father always told him.  
Nothing more than the dirt on the street.

This time his hands were shaking. He didn’t have a gun in his hands but a cup of hot watered down coffee. Just to get a little bit of flavour. To get a little bit of warmth.  
Since the whole Incident with the Triskelion he couldn’t get warm anymore. It was like he was freezing from the inside. He wondered if Winter ever felt the same while being frozen. The kind of cold that makes you shiver even when everything around you is warm. Everyone is smiling and you’re just trying to not fall apart.

Brock tried to get a job.  
A nice one, laying low. Hard but honest work. It wasn’t possible.  
After the Widow dropped everything onto the world wide web, there was no one out there not recognizing who he was.  
No work for him to take to get at least warm water. Or something to eat.  
He needed to steal the painkillers and the sleeping pills. The food he was eating. It was a struggle to get out of bed every day. Still he somehow managed it.

He tried to lay low for as long as he could. But then again he needed to eat, needed to at least get outside and try something. He didn’t want to be a villain but then again it was the only thing he could do anymore.  
It was something he could do without thinking. Without feeling.  
Brock knew he should hate the Widow for dropping the files. But he couldn’t. He was too tired to hate anyone of them anymore. Just added it to Caps account. Better to hate one person than a bunch of them. Hating one person was too consuming. Perhaps it would get better. He just needed to live through this. He could do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rollins didn't die!
> 
> Well not now.  
> We need to see what's coming.  
> It is just Brock's very first friend he had as a child that is dying. Marc. He isn't important for us but he was important for our dear Brock


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the tags. This is getting dark here.  
> If you ever feel the need to talk, if you need help or if you just can't anymore. Don't let go. Please.  
> There are dark times but light will come. Just you wait. It isn't easy most of the times but it will be worth it.  
> There's always another way.
> 
> you can get help here:  
>  href=”http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines” > International suicide hotlines 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely Shi-Toyu who helped me through the suicide attempt <3 you're ideas were amazing and I really love how it turned out. Even if it hurt me to hurt my poor lil baby that much ( I won't stop)
> 
> and of course you can talk to us too! *cuddles*

He couldn’t do it.  
He fucking couldn’t.  
Things got a bit better after some food and more meds. There was a job that covered a lot but then he went a bit overboard with the pain medication, which left him vulnerable and high and happy with the world for a short amount of time.  
Until there wasn't any money left and he needed to work again. Not that he was keen on killing again. A simple robbery. Nothing serious.

At least he had thought it would be a simple robbery. Turned out it wasn't. The guy getting him the job hadn’t mentioned that they were robbing one of Stark Industry’s trucks. They never even told him about what was inside. He should just come, shoot around and get whatever was inside.  
Brock was too tired to care. There were enough people with them, highly trained mercenaries. He was just one of them trying to get his money. He could already feel the throbbing headache and the burning sting of hunger in his stomach. Brock had already consumed the last of his pain meds the day before and he was itching for a new dose, his hands slightly shaking.

It got him a snarky comment from one of the others, a slightly younger mercenary who told him a newbie should stay at home and not come with them on this trip. Pft. As if he was a newbie. The old Brock would have taught him a lesson. The new Brock just stared him down till he got uncomfortable, murmured something about him being a freak.  
How right the man was. Brock was a freak. They would know who he was when he took off his mask. They were searching for the Hydra agents. Not to kill them off but to recruit them again. Brock didn’t want to have anything to do with them. He just wanted to do as little as possible. Just enough to survive. To cover his needs.

“Hey Freak. We’re here. Stop sleeping.”

The sudden shout made him flinch, staring at the man and shaking his head as if to lift the mist. Right. The robbery.  
They would be damned for robbing Stark but then again, it was just one of the trucks. Nothing serious. There were many of them in the town. An easy job.

Until it wasn’t.

The first one going down was the young guy calling him freak. Brock couldn’t even be happy about that or smile. He just felt hollow. The truck was heavily armoured. They couldn’t even get a scratch into the metal.  
Brock would have planned it right. Would have made different decisions. But thinking was too much. Thinking was nothing he wanted right now. He only wanted some food, a hot drink and something to stop the trembling of his fingers. He couldn’t even think straight. Or aim.

The amount of times he shot wrong or stumbled over something was alarming. He felt something hitting his chest. His armour strong enough to not let it through. The next one hitting his side was a bit trickier, he felt a sharp pain, hissed and cursed a moment just to freeze as he heard a familiar voice.

“Rumlow?”

Of course Captain America was there.

Brock cursed again, stumbling over some debris as he turned just to see not only the Captain but Iron Man and Winter approaching too. Just his luck… There was a sudden explosion right behind him, a fire at his back strong enough to throw him forward. He could feel the heat on his back, heard the ringing in his ears as he lifted himself up onto his knees. A shudder went through his body and he felt the blood seeping out of his side. His shivering hand found the leak in his armour and tried to stop it by pressing his hand over the gash.

Damnit.

They couldn’t hope to defeat one of these Avengers. Let alone all three. At least they deemed him the lesser evil, rushed by and concentrated onto the other mercenaries who happened to fight back quite well. Brock didn’t know what had happened, but he needed a second or maybe two to get back on his feet. He heard a victorious scream, making his heart stop for a second only to beat faster afterwards. Winter… A small smile formed on his lips and he tried to look where his former lover was, just to freeze once more.

Iron man was with him. The faceplate was lifted and the man shared a kiss with Winter. Not a small one. One with love and fire and everything Brock ever wanted to gift to Winter. The small laugh that escaped Brock was a sign that he had lost it finally. Yeah. Only the best for Winter. Not only the Captain but the Genius too. No wonder he looked so happy. So content.

For a moment Brock thought he would break apart. Just to feel that there was nothing more to break. He felt cold. Colder than before. He didn’t even know it was possible.

A short moment he stood there watching them fight, only to turn and head back. It didn’t matter if they followed him. They obviously didn’t. It was a short trip home, they were nearer than he had deemed safe, but then again it should have been an easy job. Somehow no one stopped him on his way home, not even the whispering passersby. He still had the weapon in his hand. His other hand bloody, but it finally had stopped shaking. Brock should have been worried about that but nothing really mattered anymore.

There was only one thing to do. One important thing and then he could just... He didn’t follow the thought. He knew what he wanted and that was peace. Quiet. Only one way left to achieve that. And only one thing to do.

He didn’t know and didn’t care how he got into his room. He just frowned at the laptop sitting on top of the kitchen counter. His arm collided with some cheap whiskey bottles to throw them on the floor. Didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need to clean up. It took a bit of time till he opened everything he needed. A short click and he managed to do the last thing he wanted to do and smiled to himself as he watched the loading bar. Almost done.

His bloodied hand got rid of the helmet, threw it away onto the floor. There was a short clunk and he frowned a bit as he felt something wet against his cheek, trying to get rid of the red liquid Brock just smeared more blood onto it. Didn’t matter. There would be more. No point in being clean before shooting yourself in your godforsaken face.

Brock leaned against the kitchen table, the loading bar still working. There was much to send and it would take a while. It was fully powered though, and he didn’t need to fear a power down. It wasn’t a safe connection. There hadn’t been the time to set one up. Or the need to. They could always get the rest if they needed it. A small smile ghosted over his face. For a short moment he asked himself if Winter would miss him. . Probably not. Winter would be happy. Winter was happy already. A tired huff escaped his lips and he closed his eyes, took the gun and opened his mouth. He normally hated the cold feeling of the steel, the dark taste of gunpowder. But right in this moment it was the most delicious thing he’d ever had. He didn’t fear death, in fact he was quite happy to finally be able to die.

With a final thought of Winter he pulled the trigger.

And again.

And again.

The empty gun still in his mouth he sobbed and felt tears welling behind his closed eyes.  
Not even that...  
Brock opened mouth and hand, the gun falling to the floor without a second thought. He pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes and tried not to crumble to the floor, trembling from tired and exhausted sobs. This couldn’t be real. Of course he wasn’t able to kill himself this easy. His eyes opened and searched the knives. No… With his luck he would just damage enough to survive and be crippled. It wasn’t that easy to kill oneself without a proper shot to the head. He knew it. Found enough recruits trying to kill themselves off and being severely injured after it. Without being able to properly die.

His gaze landed on his bag, a long black rope for rappelling peeking out of it.  
That was…. not the worst way to go.  
Brock had a boxing bag hanging in the middle of the room, it didn’t take long to stand on a small ladder, lift it off and pull the rope around the hook. He could be glad he had a high ceiling. His fingers worked swift and fast, the right knots already in his muscle memory. He knew it wasn’t high enough to kill him off by breaking his neck, but then again dying from suffocation didn’t take long either.  
The rope felt smooth around his neck, around his scars. More like a loving hand brushing his skin. A short tug and he made sure of the knots holding him, the rope already tight around his throat. He just had to hope the hook was strong enough, but then again he had lost a lot of his weight in the last weeks.

It wasn’t a big step. He just needed to step from the ladder and everything would be fine.

The pain shouldn’t be unexpected but of course it was. The rope tightened around his throat, his head violently pushed back. His hands flew to the tight thing around his neck. It had wandered higher, stopped right under his jaw and made him sputter. He knew what was happening but couldn’t stop the burst of adrenaline pushing through his veins. The need to live. There were tears flowing down his face and he could feel it heating up. It wasn’t his first time being choked, but it was the first time he hoped he wouldn’t come out of it.

The loud buzzing in his ears was almost too loud to hear the ladder fall. He just felt his legs connecting with it. Felt a pain in his throat where his fingernails tried to get the rope away, until his body slowly relaxed. His mouth was opened. Brock tried to get enough air but he couldn’t. His arms were getting heavier, too heavy to still hold them up. He couldn’t be sure how long the whole thing took, just knew that the buzzing got a bit quieter. Everything else he heard was muffled. There were dark spots already disturbing his vision.  
The rope choked his carotid artery and not his airway, his brain helpfully reminded and if he wouldn’t felt so helpless (and breathless) Brock would have laughed. Not that he had the air for it. It was just kinda funny how his thoughts were slowly fading and slowing. Like his need to breathe. To struggle.

There was another crash, muffled and far away. Brock blinked, tried to focus and felt his heart skip a beat, whether from the loss of breath or the sight. He didn’t know. There was a blur of red and gold. People.There were shouts around him but he couldn’t recognize the meaning. He couldn’t quite grasp words. Names. He felt his vision going dark. Finally retreating into black hollowness. The buzzing had stopped.

He finally felt peace.

 

He came to with a crushing pain running through his body. Something heavy on his chest trying to suffocate him, something else warm on his lips. Then another burst of pain. It was too loud. Too bright. His eyes fluttered open for a second or two. There were more noises now. He tried to tell them to stop. To let him sleep but couldn’t quite form any words. It didn’t take long for him to drift away again.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Brock groaned and tried to lift his arm to kill the damn alarm. His limbs felt so heavy and his head was too cloudy to realize at first that it didn’t sound like his alarm. There was something on his face, something familiar. Was it the scent? Another groan escaped him. Not again… How he hated hospitals.  
His throat hurt. For a moment he didn’t know why he was here. Until he did. No.

He tried to grab the mask on his face and drag it away but his hand was caught by a firm hand. Brock froze. He hadn’t known he wasn’t alone. His eyes were so heavy but he managed to open them just to be faced with a very angry and very disapproving Captain America. Brock frowned.  


The man had no right to look angry. For the first time in forever Brock felt a warm and ugly feeling in his chest. He growled, even as he felt it hurting and tried to suppress a cough. He failed miserably. And it hurt so much that he felt tears welling, while he tried to stop the coughing.

“Easy….”

There was a careful hand behind his neck, pressing him a bit forward, the other one took the mask away for a bit. A cold glass was pressed against his lips and Brock tried to drink. Instantly whining as he felt the cold droplets running down his sore throat. The water was delicious and he tried to get more but was rewarded with another “Easy there” and he was only able to take small sips. He didn’t even care that it was the Captain treating him like a child. Brock closed his eyes and leaned back into the hand, showing that he wanted to lay down again. It released him carefully and he heard Steve putting the glass on the table.

“Why did you hang yourself?”

Brock blinked and opened his eyes, his quite confused glance meeting the Captain's serious face.

“Because there weren’t any bullets left.”

There was a series of emotions chasing each other on the Captain's face. Brock wasn’t quite able to catch them but noticed the angry look vanish and being replaced with sad eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, Brock.”

Oh.  
That’s why.  
Brock licked his upper lip and swallowed before he closed his eyes again. It was too bright.

“I’ve lost everything. Was it really necessary to take even that away from me?”

He knew he sounded desperate and pathetic. Lost. He felt like he was lost and close to crying. Brock was so tired. And he was tired of feeling tired. Nothing made sense anymore.

The Captain didn’t answer but tucked the mask carefully back to help him breathe.

“You should rest some more. They needed to get the bullet out of your side, your body needs rest.”

Brock was glad as he felt the morphine kicking in. He didn’t want to hear anything more from the Captain. Was it too much to ask to be left in peace?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!  
> Thank you for following our story ^_^  
> We are happy to announce that this will be continued, not now but there is a story planned.  
> We hope you enjoy the last part!  
> This time with two pictures of the amazing artist and my beloved friend Araydre. You're a wonder and I love writing with you. You make it perfect.
> 
> Please follow us on tumblr! (Araydre has amazing pictures there, I still need to figure this magic out)  
> [Araydre](https://www.tumblr.com/search/araydre) and [fancy, here as voodoofee](https://www.tumblr.com/search/voodoofee)

When Brock woke the next time he was alone.  
Finally. Quiet and peace. He was glad he didn’t have to talk with the Captain again. And confused why he wasn’t chained. Perhaps they thought him too weak to try anything? They were right. He wouldn’t do anything. He just wanted to go home and lie down in bed, thinking about his miserable life.

The gunshot wound hadn’t been that bad, but the blood loss and the… other thing made them hold him for almost a week. It was the fifth day and he was already crazy and crawling up the walls. Brock didn’t want to stay a second longer in this hospital.

He hadn't expected the doctor coming and clearing him to go. He didn’t even know how to get home. There were spare clothes for him. New ones. They were soft and warm and Brock was sure the Captain had picked them out. He loved the fabric but would burn them as soon as he had his own clothes again. Not that he could afford burning a new set of clothes. He just didn’t want anything from the man.

Brock didn’t smile at the hospital staff, but did say his thanks. They let him go and there wasn’t anyone holding him up and arresting him. Not that he cared.  
He had no money and no jacket and it was already pretty chilly. He would be lucky to not catch a cold. Then again there was an excuse to stay in bed. Perhaps he would die from that. Not if the Captain interfered again. The man couldn’t be everywhere could he?

A short look on a busstop map made him frown. He was far way from his house. Without any money on him to get him transport anywhere. Brock sighed and tugged the hoodie over his face. At least he was somewhat warm. He heard someone running behind him but didn’t react, just tried to walk home. The hand on his shoulder made him almost jump onto the street, only to get tugged back.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. You’re out earlier than I thought.”

Yeah Captain America.  
Perhaps he was summoned by only thinking about him.  
Would make a lot of the girls leering after him happy. Brock almost snorted. Yeah, Cap should molest the poor girls and let him die in peace.  
He stared at the Captain to wait for something but the man only laid his arm over Brock's shoulder and guided him gently to his car.

“I will bring you home. There’s no need to walk.”

Brock didn’t react. He just sat in the car and leaned his head against the window. There wasn’t anything to say. What should he talk about with this man. Brock had questions, but somehow he wasn’t that curious, couldn't summon the energy. If the man wanted something he would tell him and being told to get into the next jail wasn’t something Brock needed to hear.  
The streets flew by without any of them talking, till Brock was sure they were heading into the wrong direction.

“That’s not my way home.”

“I know.”

So… new home in jail. Or wherever the new S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever organisation wanted him was located. Brock sighed and closed his eyes. Under the watchful eyes he couldn’t even try anything. Not that he wanted to try it again. Killing oneself off sucked. Except if it was successful. Not with Captain America near him of course. He needed to rescue everyone. Little kitten. Nice old lady. Dirty broken Hydra scum.

Brock would have rolled his eyes at their destination if he hadn’t drifted off in a light doze. The Avengers Tower.  
A gentle nudge on his shoulder woke him and he tried to blink away the sleep.

“We’re here. Come on, you can nap upstairs.”

He even was so perfect to let his voice down to not startle Brock or wake him up unnecessary. His look wandered over the tower and he just shook his head a bit. Till it hit him.  
Winter…  
Winter would be there.  
His steps slowed and he stared at the Captain's back. Unsure if it would get him enough distance to run. The blonde turned and looked at him with a reassuring smile. 

“Please don’t make this difficult. Just come with me.”

Brock tried to think but he just found black nothingness in his mind and he felt his shoulders sagging down.

“...Yeah…”

His gaze pinned on the ground he followed the man to the elevator, only to get an arm over his shoulder again. A short squeeze.

“Everything will be alright.”

Nothing was right. Brock opened his mouth to tell him this but closed it again. There was no point in talking to the man. Of course for him everything would be alright.  
He didn’t know what to expect. There was no lecture. No arrest. The Captain didn’t even talk to him that much. Or ask why he did any of it. Brock could feel the uncertainty nagging at him.

“Why aren’t you talking about it? Don’t you think I’m pathetic? Don’t you wanna know why I betrayed you all? Why I left Winter to die and you to die at Winter’s hands?”

They were in an elevator, how ironic, and Brock's hands were trembling. He had taken a step back. Defensive even as his words were attacking. He was confused. What did the man expect from him?

The captain sighed and turned to the number pad and pushed the stop. The elevator stopped and he turned to face Brock.

“I am not talking about it because you don’t seem to want to talk about it. You are not pathetic, but I don’t understand why you did it. Then again I will give you the time to talk about it. If you want. I won’t force you. And you didn’t betray any of us. You did what you needed to survive. We talked with Winter.” Rogers hesitated for a second. “We’ve… been searching for you.”

That wasn’t what the man wanted to say, but Brock didn’t notice it. His thoughts were already racing. What had Winter told them? He licked his lips nervous, trying to calm his thoughts. Trying not to cry or to flee.

“I… need to be honest with you. Bucky didn’t react good to the sight that greeted us when we found you. Neither of us did. I don’t know why you did it but I would like to have a promise you won’t try it again. I… I don’t know if we can help you, but you can come to us to talk. We can find you someone to talk to. This isn’t the only way.” 

Brock didn’t know if he should cry or punch the Captain in the face with his fist. The man sounded genuinely concerned. Something that made Brock feel vulnerable. No one ever wanted to help without getting something out of it. But there was nothing to get from him. Except… Well… at least there was something he was good at. Even if Brock didn’t thought Rogers would want him go to his knees to suck his dick. Then again Steve could want to punish him, get off some steam. Pierce liked to do this when he felt stressed. Would Steve be like that too? Brock couldn’t imagine. There was a finger suddenly poking at his forehead, causing him to look up into the concerned blue puppy eyes of the supersoldier that tried to make himself a little bit smaller, less intimidating.

“I don’t know what’s going on in there right now. But stop it. We are the good guys. We want to help. I just… don’t know what Bucky will do. But I will stop him if he tries to hit you.”

Reassuring.  
Winter would be right to kick and hurt him. He deserved it.  
Brock gifted him with a small smile.

“You don’t need to stop him.”

_“And we need to gag you because that’s bullshit.”_

Brock jumped at the third voice and stared flabbergasted at the ceiling.

“Tony. It’s impolite to disturb conversations.”

The supersoldier send a disapproving frown to the ceiling and Brock couldn’t help but smile faintly. At least everyone got the same frown and not just him.

_“What! I was just checking what took you so long. You should hurry or we’ll eat everything by ourselves.”_

The elevator started to move again without either of them doing anything and the blond looked a bit helplessly at Brock.

“I’m sorry. He’s like that.”

Brock shrugged and smiled a bit.

“I’ve read about him.”

“Well he is better and worse. Depends on his mood.”

“I heard that Rogers.”

Brock took a step back as the elevator doors opened and he was met with Tony Stark. He felt Rogers’ hand on his back, Brock didn’t know if it was to steady him or discourage him from running away.

Tony shook his head and just grabbed Brock’s hand to drag him right into the living room. Brock couldn’t even get his hand back as he was pushed to the couch where he was met with Winter. Brock stood there. Frozen. Stared at the man he once thought was the love of his life. He stared at him with wide eyes only to be met with sad and red rimmed ones.

“Winter…”

Brock started but stopped as he watched the other man shuddering. He couldn’t react fast enough to do something, there was just suddenly a bundle of Super Soldier in his arms. Pressing against him. Brock wasn’t able to move, he just stared at him for a moment and closed his eyes. His face twisting into a pained expression.

“Winter…”

“YOU DIED!”

Winter was crying and shouting at him, his face still pressed against Brock’s neck. His arms were thrown around Brock, cuddling him with so much force Brock was sure his ribs would bruise. Carefully he wrapped his arms around the man. Felt himself trembling.

“I thought I lost you Winter…”

Brock knew he was shaking almost as bad as Winter. More after he admitted this. He knew the others were standing close. Were listening. It didn’t matter. He could feel Winter shaking his head and suddenly there was another body pressing against him, another pair of arms around him.

“Come on Bucky… he needs to lay down. And he is still injured… We don’t want the bullet wound to reopen, do we?”

The captain's voice was soft yet firm. Winter nodded and retreated a bit, not entirely letting go but guiding him to the couch. Brock wasn’t sure why he felt so tired. It wasn’t just the injury. It was everything together. He sighed and leaned a bit against the Captain. He was so warm… Winter was warm too. It was cruel of them to tease him like that. To warm him and embrace. Just to throw him away afterwards. A short shiver trembled through his body.

Another hand joined the two pairs and Brock looked up startled. Honey brown eyes met his own.

“Come on. Couch. It’s really comfy.”

It looked like that. They had expanded it and there were so many blankets and pillows it was almost hilarious. He snorted and raised an eyebrow to look back at Tony who just smiled and shrugged.

“Bucky needed to cuddle.”

Brock nodded. Winter always liked it warm. Mostly hot. He was literally melting whenever he and Winter were together. The man needed to escape the freezing chamber and not be reminded of it again. Even if that meant that Brock was wearing just his boxers the whole day or he would have died of a heat stroke. A small smile flashed over his face but died soon. Winter always wanted to cuddle more when he was sad or down.

It was Brock’s fault Winter was sad this time.  
He had broken his own oath to never make Winter cry. A gentle nudge send him forward and he tried to shove the little voice back into his head. He wanted to sit on the edge of the couch but was suddenly lifted by Rogers and carefully laid in the middle of the blanket nest. Brock yelped and grabbed the muscled arms.

“I’m not a woman.”

“Not? Well you’re delicate like one right now so don’t defend yourself. Just… lay back and let us do what we want.”

Brock couldn’t help himself but to freeze. So it would really be like _that_. He forced a smile on his face and nodded just to be frowned at. The blond sighed and covered him with a blanket. Brock didn’t move. Winter grumbled and shoved at Rogers’ shoulder to make room , before he got under the blanket to snuggle up to Brock, his flesh arm protectively over his chest. Rogers opened his mouth to say something but got interrupted by Tony who crawled onto the couch next to Winter.

“Bad phrasing, Cap.” Tony told his boyfriend, before he turned to Brock. “Of course we won’t do anything you are not comfortable with.”

The captain sighed and laid on the other side of Brock and put his arm over him too. Brock couldn’t help but be confused. His thoughts were partly racing and partly just running around, doing nothing. He didn’t know what was happening right now. He felt panic rising up in his chest. They were… off. This wasn’t what he expected and so he tried to shove them away, even if he was in no place to do that. His face scrunched up in hurt and confusion. He didn’t care for his hurting ribs, his still sore throat or the throbbing feeling of the wound in his right side.

“Stop playing with me. I don’t know what you want.”

He knew he was snapping at them. They didn’t do anything to hurt him. Or to arrest him. Or to get their revenge for his doings.  
The men scooted away, not much, just a little. Enough to give him a bit of personal space and to move up to the backrest of the couch. He brought his legs closer to his body, tried to make himself smaller, protect himself. He wasn’t sure what to do. How to react.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he repeated. 

Brock’s voice was almost silent. He hated how pathetic he sounded.

“Can’t you… just get over with it?”

The pleading was enough to get some reaction from them. Winter looked heartbroken and the other two a mixture of sadness and anger. Of course they would be sad. They couldn’t play but needed to finish it now. Perhaps he should have just let them do what they wanted. Whatever they would throw at him he deserved it.

Unsurprisingly it was Iron man who broke the silence. The dark haired man sat on his heels not breaking eye contact with him. His face was still angry but he tried to soften it.

“Yeah. We need to talk. Brock. I can call you Brock can I? You scared the shit out of us.”

He ignored the shushed and outraged “Tony” and just talked anyway, his eyes never leaving Brock’s face who looked uncomfortably back.

“What. He needs to know it. We searched months for him and just the moment we meet him he goes home and tries to kill himself! Treating him with kid gloves isn’t what he needs. You’ve said it yourself. Winter broke down after this. He thought you were dead. He saw the life fading out of you. You are hurt, but we are too. Winter asked us to search for you. Care for you. You can’t just…. end it like this. What were you thinking?”

He was clearly angry. Brock could feel the tears coming, even if he wanted to just hide. He didn’t want to cry before them. He didn’t dare to look at Winter who sat there like a kicked puppy. Or the Captain who stared at Tony, unsure if he should stop him or not. 

“I… I don’t know.”

Brock looked at his knees.

“I just… don’t know what to do anymore. Everything is so cold and it hurts and… and…”

He stopped. His face buried in his hands and he tried not to tug at his hair. His eyes were now closed and he felt a dry sob escaping.

“I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

A pair of strong arms wound themselves around him, dragging him to a broad chest. He could smell the Captain. Steve. Felt a chin on his head and heard a soft soothing noise. A hand rubbed little circles on his back and he felt the tears finally flowing. His hands clutched the dark blue shirt the man was wearing as he tried to crawl into him. He trembled so hard he could almost feel his teeth clattering together. For a moment it didn’t matter if he looked pathetic, it didn’t matter that he destroyed the shirt with his tears and that he bit his lips bloody. His shoulders were shaking, like the rest of his body.

Brock couldn’t see Steve throwing a look at Tony who cuddled Winter, who looked utterly heartbroken. He just wanted to…. He didn’t know what he wanted. But it felt good to be held. To feel another human body. The warmth and the security. He also wasn’t sure why Steve did it. Why Steve cared so much so suddenly. Didn’t think of it as odd. Brock didn’t know how long it took for him to finally stop crying. There were no more tears left but he still trembled and felt the warm hand on his back.

“It’s okay. You can let it out. I will take care of you. We all will. You are not alone.”

A wet laugh escaped him.

“Yeah… and why?”

A soft laugh was the answer, the chest he leaned on trembled a bit. The hand wandered from his back to his neck. Ignored the red lines where the rope had cut him and found his hair, started to massage him there. Brock almost groaned and closed his eyes, snuggled closer to the chest. His cheek was rubbing at the wet spot on the Captain's shirt but the man didn’t tell him to stop so he wouldn’t.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t see it but I liked you from the start. Sassy dark haired badass who was snarky to everyone? Kicked ass like no one else but still cared for every member of his team. You loved to be the hard asshole but I know you cared about all of them. You made sure they were safe and you made sure they were treated before you let anyone look at your wounds. You impressed me. I wanted to know more of you. I won't lie, it hurt to find out that you were Hydra. It really did. But Winter told me later you had your reasons and I didn’t have the time to talk to you. I want to now, I want to know why you chose Hydra. I want to know more about you.”

Brock blinked and shook his head slowly. He wasn’t sure what to make out of that.

“I’m not a good man. I have done… things. Bad things.”

“And I didn’t? You don’t want to know what we did in the war. Everyone of us has killed people. Everyone of us has done something he thought was good, while it wasn’t. You can’t know everything. I can only take you from my experiences and from what Winter told us. He deems you a good man. And I trust him. I’ve seen and worked with you. I don’t think you’re bad. Wrong decisions yes. But not a bad man. A man that loves and wants to protect can’t be a bad man.”

Brock would have disagreed. He just didn’t know what to say without telling too much. Without giving away too much of himself. He wanted to shout that he had killed his first friend. That he had killed children. Women. Helpless people. He wasn’t good. Nor innocent. He had done things. And things had been done to him. He was broken. Not worthy enough to trust any of them taking a liking to him. But then again. Steve had said that Winter wanted him here. Winter wanted the others to like him. He poked a bit at Steve to get away from him, turned his head to look at Winter who was snuggling with Tony. Both of them were looking at him. Brock bit his lip and tried to clean his face with his hand. Neither one was laughing at him for breaking down. But he really did feel better. Lighter somehow.

“You don’t want me to leave?”

His throat was sore, the crying hadn’t done his vocal cords any good. Brock felt Steve’s arms around him, dragging him back a bit against the man’s chest. Giving him not only warmth but something to lean on. Brock wasn’t quite sure what he expected and he was too exhausted to do anything else. There wouldn’t be any more tears left if Winter changed his decision. But instead the man’s face lit up like a light and he opened his arms, then looked at the pillows and discarded blankets.

“Never. I want you to feel better and… cuddle?”

That was at least something he could do. He nodded softly and looked at Tony who smiled back. The genius kissed Winter’s neck and ushered him nearer to Brock and Steve, where he cuddled into the blankets. He smiled shyly at Brock and opened his arms again. That was something new, normally he was the one offering comfort. Winter really had matured so fast, causing Brock to smile a bit sad. He carefully moved and laid down, aware of his still hurting and throbbing wound and closed his eyes. Felt warm arms surrounding him. Winter was so warm.

Brock smiled.  
A warm Winter was a good Winter.  
There was a soft groan and slow snicker. Brock blinked his eyes open again just to see Stark above his head, planting a kiss on Winters forehead. The loving look in his eyes made him feel a painful yearning.  
The man lifted his hand carefully and slowly as if he wanted Brock not to shy away, laid his hand on his cheek. Brock needed all his willpower to not lean right into the hand but couldn’t help himself but whine as he felt lips on his own forehead. 

Winter chuckled next to him and nuzzled his neck, licked over the exposed flesh. Steve’s laugh was right beside him and the Soldier cuddled behind him, brought an arm onto Tony to cuddle him too. The man was careful as he laid half on top of Brock, his head on the former Hydras chest.

“Tell me when it hurts, hm?”

Brock nodded, his throat tight but this time not from pain. He was surrounded. Trapped. But it felt good. Safe. A shudder ran through his body and he closed his eyes, his head leaned on Winter’s chest. His one hand found its way in Tony’s hair while the other one was trapped soon by Steve’s fingers.

“Sleep. You need the rest. We will eat later.”

Another nod from Brock, this time slower. More tired. Brock felt Winter and Steve moving and a moment later there was a blanket over them all. With Tony warm on his chest, Winter and Steve pressed to his sides, Brock could finally feel like he belonged. Not that he thought it would last. It would more likely break him apart when it all ended and he woke from this dream. But that time was not yet. Right now he was happy for the first time in years. And somehow, deep down he felt his body slowly warming again from the inside.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a gift for the beautiful and amazing artists [Araydre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/pseuds/araydre) and [Wren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/pseuds/MassiveSpaceWren) . Both of them are helping and supporting me a lot! They spoil us with beautiful art. This is a thank you fic!
> 
> And thank you for my lovely beta's XD Also [Araydre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/pseuds/araydre)! and the stunning [Bill Longbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow). Wow. I am a bad dragon I am so happy that I managed to make you cry ugly, ugly tears! (still, they can't be ugly. You know why.)


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